


Well Trained

by tryslora



Series: Tumblr Kiss Meme [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Kiss With a Fist, Kissing, M/M, Sparring, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus is responsible for Percy's training, in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Trained

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for my tumblr kiss meme for the prompt of Marcus/Percy and a kiss with a fist. As always, I do not own the world or characters of Harry Potter; I just like to play with them sometimes.

Marcus crouches down slightly, his stance loose and easy as he wiggles his fingers. “Come at me.”

Percy doesn’t move. He has refused to remove his robes, refused to make himself comfortable, and now he refuses this instruction. “Does this have a point, Flint?”

Marcus slowly straightens, pushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, s’got a point. You don’t know how to fight, and you insist on using those arses as your informants, and one of these days it’s going to get dicy. You need to know how to protect yourself.”

An eyebrow goes up. “And you propose to teach me how to do that?”

“S’work, Weasley.” Marcus lands on the name heavily, knowing just how much it irritates Percy when he uses it. He sees the way Percy’s mouth twists tightly, and he crooks his finger again. “Come at me.”

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll tell your boss that you’re not fit for duty.” Marcus wouldn’t, but he’ll play dirty here. He needs to get under Percy’s skin, because it drives him mad every time they go out and Percy willingly puts himself in the middle of places where he does not belong.

Special assignments is killing him.

It doesn’t help that he’s in love with his partner.

Marcus spreads his hands. “Your choice. M’good with getting another partner. Or letting this shite lie low until you’re back and ready to go. Find some other bloke, but you’re bloody well going to learn how to punch and how to take a hit.”

“You’re a sodding arse.” The words bite out, clipped and prim as Percy undoes the front of his robes. He shrugs out of them, tossing them to the side, leaving himself in trousers and nothing more that Marcus can see. He curls his hands into fists, puts them up, holding them loose in front of Marcus’s face.

They wouldn’t do anything to help, not in a real fight.

Marcus jabs at Percy, lets him knock the fist away. He smiles when Percy winces at the impact.

“Hurts,” Marcus tells him, jabbing again. “Need t’get used to it or you’ll be sitting there holding your hand like a bloody idiot after you hit someone. C’mon. Hit me. Just fuckin’ hit me already.”

Percy jabs, but it’s slow, and Marcus dances out of the way easily. His smirk pulls Percy in again with another jab, and they dance across the room, Percy attacking and Marcus deflecting until it riles Percy’s temper. Marcus sees the moment it happens, when Percy pulls his arm back and goes for the haymaker, intending to lay Marcus out flat on the floor.

Marcus steps to the side just as Percy throws it, but he miscalculates. Or maybe he just wants Percy to connect, to feel what it’s like when flesh gives beneath his fist. The punch catches him in the jaw and his head jerks back. Marcus goes down.

Percy lands on top of him, straddling him and leaning forward, eyes lit with a bright fire even as concern draws his brow together. “You’re hurt,” Percy says.

Marcus snorts, the sound shifting to a groan. “A bit,” he allows.

Percy freezes, his gaze darting to the closed door to the training room. He blinks once, then leans in, lips brushing across the blossoming bruise on Marcus’s jaw. Featherlight, he trails kisses across the injury, finding Marcus’s mouth at the end and diving in, fingers twisting in Marcus’s hair as he holds on.

There is nothing Marcus wants more than to be fucked at that moment, with Percy wild-eyed and strong on top of him. He presses up, knowing Percy can feel his reaction; Percy flushes deeply.

“Not here.” The clipped tones are back.

“Lock the door,” Marcus orders.

Percy glares down at him. “Not. Here,” he repeats.

Marcus only smiles slowly. “I give the orders, remember? Lock the door, then fuck me. _Now_.”

He has to admit, he’s pleased with just how quickly Percy manages to comply.


End file.
